Andtheydidlookbeautiful，whereatintervalsthelevelraysofthesun，penetratingthethicknessoftreesandshrubsontheoppositesideofthepathbeforeus，relievedtheirduskyverdurebydisplayingpatchesofsemitransparentleavesofresplendentgoldengreen。
`IalmostwishIwerenotapainter，’observedmycompanion。
`Whyso？onewouldthinkatsuchatimeyouwouldmostexultinyourprivilegeofbeingabletoimitatethevariousbrilliantanddelightfultouchesofnature。’
`No；forinsteadofdeliveringmyselfuptothefullenjoymentoftheasothersdo，IamalwaystroublingmyheadabouthowIcouldproducethesameeffectuponcanvas；andasthatcanneverbedone，itismerevanityandvexationofspirit。’
`Perhapsyoucannotdoittosatisfyyourself，butyoumayanddosucceedindelightingotherswiththeresultofyourendeavours。’